


Obedient to a Fault

by Squishylittlewurm



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Bondage, Enemies to Lovers, GhiraLink is very underrated, Ghirahim is here to fight and fuck, Ghirahim is trying, Heavy Sadism, Kinda, Light Sadism, M/M, Masochism, Master/Servant, Oh to hate myself, Porn With Plot, Porn with a lot of Plot, Sword Spirits - Freeform, Swordfighting, There is NO DEMAND for this ship, Verbal Link (Legend of Zelda), Violence, and Link won't let him fight, because this account is for the cringey smut I won't post on my main, but i will go down with it, more tags will be added as I go, scratch that, the first chapter isn't too much just kinda establishment of their relationship, this is entirely self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:48:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29075853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squishylittlewurm/pseuds/Squishylittlewurm
Summary: He wasn’t all bad, though, when Link finally realized that yes, he was malicious, and yes, he was violent, but he was obedient to a fault.
Relationships: Ghirahim/Link (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	1. You'd Waste an Order on That?

**Author's Note:**

> No one asked for this and yet; here I am. This is pure self indulgent pwp after the first little bit, also Ghirahim being a little shit lmao. Enjoy???

_He missed Fi,_ he thought, and it was a thought that came pretty often these days. Whenever his new sword would make a snide remark, a quip against another resident of skyloft, a vague threat that he knew would never be fulfilled.

Yes, Ghirahim may have been _stronger_ than Fi, and much more socially adept, but Goddesses, he was so much harder to deal with.

He wasn’t all bad, though, when Link finally realized that yes, he was malicious, and yes, he was violent, but he was obedient to a fault.

“Skychild,” he had said, “When have I ever done anything not in interest of my master?”

And when Link thought about it, yeah. Ghirahim had never done anything that he wasn’t ordered to. He could have killed Link so many times, and he knew he would have liked to, but Demise wanted him alive, so that’s how he was left. He could have killed Zelda, and he would have liked to, but Demise wanted her alive, so that’s how she was left. He could have destroyed so much life on the surface, _and he would have liked to,_ but Demise needed it there, so that’s how it was left.

Any fear Link harbored for the demon had faded away that day. He had recalled, once, that Fi had told him she couldn’t physically disobey his orders. And it seemed the same for Ghirahim.

And most curious, he seemed to _want_ to follow orders. He never seemed reluctant, never seemed to resist. And he would preen at praise, he had found. It had just been thanks, at first, but Ghirahim truly was happy to do anything Link asked, even if it was with a sarcastic comment.

He wasn’t all that bad. It was slow to dawn, but Link realized soon enough, he had been made to be a weapon of mass destruction. He liked his violence well enough, and was cruel on a surface level, but he had the same core as his former sword. He had just been in use longer, by a crueler master. Fi had been used for maybe a month, by an inexperienced young knight, for a righteous purpose, before she had been sealed away. Ghirahim had been Demise’s servant for Hylia knew how long, forced to bend to the demon’s every whim, exclusively for slaughter, exclusively for evil. Perhaps he had started out just like Fi, emotionless and robotic, with only the purpose to suit his master’s purposes. And yet, he had been forged into what he was when Link had first met him on the surface.

So, the hero really couldn’t fault him for his behavior. He knew no better.

He was something to adjust to, though, and not just for Link. Whereas Fi preferred to be in her sword form lest she was _needed_ as a spirit, Ghirahim liked to be corporeal unless Link needed his weapon. Even still, Ghirahim was useful in battle when in his usual form, so that was generally how he stayed.

And Link usually got home later than Fledge, and left earlier. So, the one time Fledge came back late, he was met with the sight of his roommate fast asleep, a demon perched carefully on the windowsill.

Ghirahim’s eyes flicked over to the door when he heard it open. He had heard enough about Fledge, and saw him whenever they’d come and go from the academy. He simply raised a gloved finger to his lips, urging him to stay silent. To his chagrin, his orders were immediately disobeyed.

“Link—” Fledge began, voice warning as his hand wandered to the handle of his sword. “Link, get up—”

When the hero began to stir, Ghirahim reached down, carefully carding his fingers through his hair. “Go back to sleep,” he urged gently. “It’s fine.” He tossed a cold glare to Fledge, who was still pulling out his sword.

“Your hands are cold,” Link complained, though didn’t move to shove Ghirahim away.

“My, my, I wonder why,” he rolled his eyes. “Sleep. It’s only Fledge.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Link sighed, rolling over to face Ghirahim. His eyes were still shut. “That’s my job…”

“Of course, master, who am I to worry for your health?” He scoffed, shaking his head.

“Since when do you care about my health?” He yawned, pushing himself to sit up.

“You wound me, Skychild,” he sighed dramatically. Link rolled his eyes, turning to wave to Fledge.

His eyes darted rapidly between Link and Ghirahim, his mouth opening to speak, though nothing came out. “Put your sword away, you little whelp. Is that how all of you Hylians greet a new face?” Ghirahim sneered.

“Be nice,” Link warned.

“Sorry,” he quipped, folding his hands in his lap.

“Link?” Fledge’s voice was shaky, he was clearly scared (as per usual). “What in Hylia’s name is that?”

“Ghirahim,” Link yawned casually.

“It would be Lord Ghirahim to you,” the demon sniffed, glancing to Fledge.

“ _Be nice_ ,” Link sighed, shoving Ghirahim’s shoulder lightly.

“Ugh,” He shook his head. “Now, go to sleep. You’ll be unbearable tomorrow if you don’t. I’ll speak to your little friend.”

“Mm,” Link slid down to lay again, muttering something about _order you not to kill ‘im,_ before he shut his eyes.

“You’d waste an order on that,” Ghirahim scoffed. He snapped his fingers, still loud through the muffle of his gloves. He disappeared in a flush of diamonds, appearing on Fledge’s side of the room. “Now, I don’t believe we’ve ever properly met.” He moved his hand, the partition between the two sides of the room following to close. When Fledge stayed in place, he groaned dramatically. “I won’t hurt you,” he tsked, though the boy could swear he heard him mutter, ‘no matter how much I’d like to.’ His approach was careful. _Annoying,_ Ghirahim thought.

“What are you?” He asked. Shaky. The demon had to smirk.

“A weapon, if you’d truly like to know. Though, I’m not nearly as dangerous under your dorm mate than I once was.” His eyes moved to the partition, shrugging a bit. “I’m unsure of how much you know about what happened to him on the surface.”

“Uh… he killed a demon thing?” He asked. “Something about time travel.”

“ _Demon thing,_ ” he chuckled. “Demise. _King_ of demons, actually. I used to be a servant of him, but we all know how that ended.” He waved his hand away. It had slowly become apparent how heavily he disliked his former master, even if he was happy to serve him. “I know you’ve met the spirit of the master sword, hm?”

“Fi?”

“Pretty little thing, wasn’t she?” He closed his eyes. “Unbearable, though. In any case, I’m the spirit of his current sword, as he was gracious enough to wield me once Fi fell into her sleep. So, I’m obliged not to kill you, as, if you noticed, my master ordered me not to. Even if you seem as if you’d be fun to carve up. I do enjoy playing with cowardly little things like you.”

“But not like Link,” Fledge muttered.

“He was fun to toy with,” Ghirahim grinned. “As he’s the only one of you pathetic little things I’ve yet to meet that can match me in a fight. Though, I believe I’d have been able to kill him, had I ever been allowed to.” He rested his chin on his hand, licking his lips. “I must admit, I’ve grown quite fond of him.” He rose to stand, approaching the partition to return to Link. “Now, I ask you go to sleep, before I force you to.”


	2. Cracks and Clarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did angst get into my pwp

“I don’t like that little roommate of yours,” Ghirahim considered.

The forest was otherwise quiet, only filled with the sounds of skittering insects and animals, and the crunch of grass beneath their feet as they walked. Zelda had requested Link to go find a few streams and lakes, chart them as he went.

“I’m aware of that,” Link sighed. “But you don’t like anyone.”

“That isn’t entirely true,” he countered. “I _tolerated_ Fi. Zelda is okay. I rather enjoy your presence.” That last sentiment caught Link off guard. ‘Rather enjoy.’ For Ghirahim to say that… took a lot.

“Did you ‘rather enjoy’ Demises’ presence?” Link wondered. Ghirahim didn’t talk about his former master much… at all. Link knew it was a touchy subject, but he didn’t know why. He couldn’t ever tell if it was defensive, painful, or somber… but Ghirahim had been _his_ sword for months now, the wounds weren’t as fresh, were they?

“...Mm,” he began, quietly. He clasped his hands behind his back, sighing heavily. “No, I didn’t,” he decided.

Link had to push away the absolute pride that bloomed in his chest at that. So he was officially better than Demise, even if his and Ghirahim’s morals differed as much as North differed South. “And what makes me any better than him?”

“You…” Ghirahim stopped, bringing his knuckle to his lips, thinking. “You don’t abuse your power over me. You don’t hurt me outside of sparring. You don’t force my forms, which, surprisingly enough, makes me more willing to change at your whim. Funny how that works. And you _do_ seem to care about my wellbeing, at some level, even be it low.”

He took a moment to take that in. Pieces slowly fit themselves together in his head. “He forced your forms?” He asked, genuinely shocked. He couldn’t imagine doing that to either Fi or Ghirahim, and maybe it was because he had never been in the situation to consider it. Fi was happy to oblige to anything, and Ghirahim never put up an argument. He could just imagine if his fiery tongue disagreed, even once. He honestly wouldn’t have the heart to pursue it unless their lives depended on it.

“Mostly to shut me up. Lock me in a box for weeks. He didn’t like it when I formed a sense of personality. I started off like Fi. I have a feeling I would have stayed that way if I had always been your sword. I feel like she would never change. But being surrounded by that violence—especially when you’re such a blank slate—changes you. When it’s all you ever know. You learn from the beginning that defiance is correct. You learn that you should be questioning authority and do as you see fit, and even though he was the one who instilled that in me, he punished me for it. Ironic, is it not?” He chuckled softly.

“How on earth do you punish a sword?” Link mumbled. He cringed when Ghirahim’s hand wandered to his chest, where he knew his core lay unseen. That same core that Link himself had cracked, one time.

“Many ways,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “The next time you see my core, you may realize there are more scars than what you left. Of course, he was sure to heal it for all intents and purposes, so I functioned. But—” he sighed. “You can still see the cracks, they ruined the clarity where they healed. It’s funny, in that way—a gem like that is devalued. Those are the gems that are sold for cheap, people who can’t afford the crystal clear ones. He made sure to explain that to me.” Link could, to his dismay, actually see genuine, _real_ sadness in the sword’s eyes. He hardly thought that possible.

Link raised his hand, slowly, though he knew he wouldn’t flinch. He rested it on Ghirahim’s shoulder, frowning. “Goddesses, that sounds horrible. I can’t even imagine—imagine how horrible it would be to live that every day.”

Ghirahim shook his head, pulling away. “No matter, Demise is dead. There’s no use pondering on the past, is there? Let’s continue on, we wouldn’t want your little plaything to get upset with us.

‘With us’ truly meant ‘with Link’. Zelda never did approve of Link wielding Ghirahim, no matter how sure the hero was that he was safe, and he was very sure. He had mentioned it to her whilst he was still mulling it over, and Zelda happily informed him that she would rather let the demon slowly go mad without a master than to put him to use. So… she didn’t exactly _know_ that the sword on his hip was Ghirahim, and the two planned to keep it that way.

Link was dreading requesting Ghirahim return to that form, after what he had mentioned about Demise. Luckily, Ghirahim noted that, and turned before Link had to ask.

He examined the gem at the hilt.

Sure enough, it was cloudy with countless hairline fractures. Like… shocked quartz, or hot glass that had been cooled much too quickly, he wondered.

He sighed heavily as he rapped at Zelda’s door, a little house he’d helped her build over the past few months.

“Come in!” She called, and so he did. He held out the map to her, and she took it happily. “Thank you, Link, I—” she looked up to him, frowning. “Are you alright?”

“Huh?” He asked, blinking a few times. “Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine.”

“Are you sure?” She prodded. “You seem troubled.”

“Yes, I’m okay. Thanks, though. Umm, I marked the cleanest river I found. Lots of it was stagnant, so I don’t trust it, but I actually collected from this one a good amount when I was down here. Lots of good fish, too.”

“Hm. I see!” She traced her finger along the scribbled map, nodding a bit. “Thank you so much, Link. I truly do appreciate it. Oh! I was meaning to show you, I set up a few training dummies, if you’d ever like to use them. Would you mind going to make sure they aren’t too fragile?”

“Hm? Oh, sure. Where are they?”

“Just out back,” she hummed. “Come, I’ll show you.”

The dummies were made well enough, modeled off of those in skyloft. Made of tanned leather, hard and cured. “Go on,” She hummed excitedly.

Link chuckled softly, drawing his sword from his hip. He took another glance at the gem, his smile dropping slightly. Ghirahim’s sword form had changed quite dramatically since Demise had wielded him, but that gem was still there, in the same place. In a place Demise could look at it while he fought.

He shook the feeling off, just how much that rubbed him the wrong way, and threw some attacks at the dummy. It was well made, and he was impressed. The sharp blade did nothing more than scratch the leather, which was quite impressive.

But his throws got sloppier, his slashes slower, every time he took a glance at the hilt.

Then he could hear that familiar disembodied voice in the back of his head, the one used when either of the swords needed to say something.

 _She can tell you’re upset. Stop before she prods too much,_ he advised. Link halted his movements, panting heavily. _We should be headed back to Skyloft, anyways. It’s looking like it will storm._

Sure enough, when he looked up, clouds were gathering. He could blame his demeanor on that. “Those clouds don’t look promising,” he mumbled. “I should be headed up. Do you feel safe staying in the storm?” Zelda’s eyes followed his.

“I.. suppose I could stand a day above the clouds.” 

And so they did.

Ghirahim had made his distaste for the situation clear from the moment Zelda got on the Loftwing with them. Had Link not known better, he would say Ghirahim sounded… jealous. But he rationalized that he was just pissed he wouldn’t be changing forms until Zelda retired to her father’s for the night. And when he continued to prod and urge Link to get back to the academy, he finally gave in, informing Zelda he’d be turning in for the night.

The languid stretch of Ghirahim’s arms and back once they were back to the dorm made the hero chuckle. “Sorry about that, I didn’t want her down in a storm.”

“Ugh,” he sighed, “You Hylians and your _empathy_. She would have been fine.”

“Even if she would, Gaepora was missing her pretty bad. It was nice to see them together again.”

“Yes, yes, all well and good,” he waved his hand nonchalantly, sitting back on the ottoman at the end of Link’s bed. He stretched his shoulders back, sighing softly. “I think you’re just hopelessly in love.”

“I’m _not,_ ” Link replied, a touch too quickly. Ghirahim smirked, glancing over as he rested his hands behind his head.

“Defensive,” he hummed. “Tell me, Skychild, when do you plan to propose?”

“I said, I’m not in love with her,” he grumbled.

“Are you so sure of that?” Ghirahim grinned.

“I am.”

“I doubt you could do anything to prove it,” he considered, examining his gloves as if they were something much more interesting. He’d considered that he’d won this little round of back and forth, seeing as Link had gone entirely silent.

Explicative being, _considered_ , not _knew_.

Because he was the one grasping at straws for words when he felt the hero’s hands yank him by the cloak into a kiss. A clumsy kiss. However, it was sudden enough that Ghirahim froze up, and Link was honestly proud he could catch the demon off-guard. He pulled back with the faintest ghost of a smug smirk as Ghirahim reached up to touch his lips in some form of shock.

“I… stand corrected,” he mumbled. “Tell me, Skychild, was that a confession?” His vague shock quickly twisted into a sly grin. It was Link’s turn, now, to go silent, flushing a bright red. Ghirahim laughed lowly, pushing himself to stand. “I _see_ ,” he hummed, folding his arms over his chest. “Cute.”

“I—” Link began, refusing to meet Ghirahim’s eyes.

“You didn’t think that through, did you?” He teased. He reached out, then, gently taking Link’s chin to force him to meet his eyes. “How lucky for you, then, that a sword tends to have a great amount of affection for its master. He pressed a much calmer, much more experienced kiss to Link’s lips then, causing the hero to freeze up this time. Once he pulled back, he licked his lips, chuckling softly. “Go to sleep, Skychild. It’s getting late.”


End file.
